The Hobbit Lass: Journey of Ivy Marigold Took
by lovefanficfan
Summary: She had given Thorin Oakenshield's Company all her love and trust. She had fought hard along with her cousin Bilbo to win the dwarves their home. Smaug the Terrible was dead, but the curse left behind doomed them all. Ivy is discovered alone and broken by her cousin Bilbo in the shadows within Erabor. One dwarf is responsible for her ruined state. Slight AU(Fili/OC/Thorin), Bilbo
1. Chapter 1

**Summary**

**She had given Thorin Oakenshield's Company all her love and trust. She had fought hard along with her cousin Bilbo to win the dwarves their home. Smaug the Terrible was dead, but the curse left behind doomed them all. Ivy is discovered alone and broken by her cousin Bilbo in the shadows within Erabor. One dwarf is responsible for her ruined state. Will the gold sickness leave the company enough for them to come to their senses and hold the dwarf in question accountable? Will she lose the love and respect of her prince due to the cruel action of another? First attempt of writing a fanfic, please be patient and kind. Reviews and suggestions would be highly appreciated =)**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of J.R.R Tolkien's work or any of his characters other than my own OC. He did a fantastic job with creating these masterpieces of fiction and creating a whole new world so rich you want to believe the fiction to be real, a part of our worlds history. And all credits to Peter Jackson to bring the fiction to visual reality in the big screen. It is through their combined imagination and genius, that has inspired me to write my own fanfic.

**Please note: Please be warned, this fiction is rated M and contain scenes of violence of a sexual nature. please carry on reading at your own disclosure.**

**The Hobbit Lass ~**

**The Journey of Ivy Marigold Took.**

"I will make you my queen." His dark, low baritone whispers near her ears intensely. The gold littered carelessly around the room reflecting on his icy blue eyes, setting it alight with its cold, metallic intensity. In his hands he circles a diamond and sapphire tiara, the light from the precious gems reflecting like stars from the glow of the torches nearby. He prowls around her slowly.

Ivy tries to remain calm. His erratic behaviour was scaring her.

"We talked about this before," her voice is tremulous as she whispers. "Please understand, I highly respect you, and consider you to be my king. You hold my eternal fealty, and beyond that I consider you to be one of my closest friends. I would do much and more for you but…" She draws in a shaky breath. "Not this. I cannot be your Queen for my heart belongs to another."

There was profound silence. Ivy dared not look away from the throne she face as she came to realise the unnaturalness of her circumstances; it made her feel small—like prey. The jarring reminder of his intimidating presence in this room of sparkling treasures was claustrophobic. Ivy cursed her lack of foresight silently. Why did she think she could face him here alone? This was his domain, the place that he stayed in exclusively these days—the throne room. It was a constant reminder of his growing madness. The Arkenstone, absent from the throne; his right to rule, it fueled his sickness.

She should have brought Bilbo with her.

She should have waited for his return from the Thranduil and Bard's waiting army. The others, with the exception of four of their company had all fallen to the cursed treasure. Kili and Fili who had not succumbed had gone to the Iron Hills for Dain and his aid.

Gold-sickness destroyed the companionship and love that had bonded them all together. Where once were selfless, noble beings, now only remained husks that craved only ever increasing wealth and power. They were all slowly dying from mindless hunger and madness. Thorin suffered the gold's call the most. And she was left alone, her voice unheeded.

She gasps in surprised pain as cruel iron arms grab her—panic blooming in the pit of her stomach instantly. Her world slowed as she watched that beautiful tiara fall from his fingers—forgotten, as if it were trash.

Fingers dug into her soft flesh, her arms tingled, circulation cutting off under the press of his hard hands. Lust and jealousy smoldered maleficently in Thorin's eyes as he loomed close so that she had to crane her neck to look at him. The shadows contorted his features; making cruel what once was a noble and caring face. That face held no-one she recognised now.

"So all this time, you have been playing me for a fool, using your helplessness as a guise. Using your sorceress charms against me and my kin! Did you promise to open your legs to the highest bidder? See who could offer you the most before you made your decision? Do you think me such a fool that I would not have noticed?" He whispered poisonously, her grip tightening harder. His nail dug in, drawing blood. She let out a choked yelp, the pain of his words however were far more acute than his grip.

"Tell me witch, how long have you been poisoning my nephew—my heir? You think to take him away from me! His King! I see it all. You reject my offer to become my queen!? What would my nephew mean to you if I took everything away from him, Halfling whore? I will tak it all! Leave him penniless, as I was left penniless. And when he has nothing; will you reject him too?" He laughs maliciously.

The cruel words dull the pain, her eyes brim with tears, making that feverish golden hue which pervades all swim before her like the basest of her nightmares. Dumbfounded, she cannot look away from his eyes. Pain and betrayal creeps into her soul, breaking something she thought could never be broken again. Had her past actions not proven anything to him? Was her behaviour and conduct so deplorable, that he would see her in such a disgusting manner?

"Please, don't! Thorin you are not yourself, you do not mean it—I know you. Remember you had given me your blessing. You wanted to talk to him first. Please. You cannot see me this way." She cries in anguish.

"Blessing!? Yes I will give you my blessing…" He roughly turns her to face him, pushing her against the wall, grabbing both of her arms over her head with one hand, and throwing her Elvish dagger far out of reach. She is left defenceless; her remaining weapons left behind with her other belongings.

"No Thorin! Please no...Listen to me! You don't want to do this, think of your honour, your kin." Ivy screams at him. She struggles helplessly against his unmoveable form.

Thorin growls furiously, he grabs her throat and presses down ruthlessly to silence her words.

"If you reject the honour of becoming my queen then you would become my whore! Tell me Halfling, will anyone want you after I'm done with you? Will my heir want you? He is blind to all else but the bewitching spell you have casted upon him, he does not see you for what you are! You are mine! My whore and I will claim you; I will help him, open his eyes. Make him see you, the real you and none shall fall under your spell again. And you will have no-one to rely upon; I will be everything to you." His breathing erratic, he rips open her tunic, biting hard on her shoulders.

With those words of finality, her world blackened. Ivy's hoarse, heart-wrenching screams echoes in the twice cursed treasury, the final legacy of Smaug.

No-one came to her rescue. The company of Thorin Oakenshield—her family, her beloved dwarves had abandoned her to her fate. They were lost in their own small worlds of greed and desire. They hear her screams but remained oblivious; deaf to her cries, too blind and trapped in their own minds.

Her beloved cousin was not able to rescue her this time. Bilbo's promise of protection were naught save empty words.

The siblings who held her affection; one of friendship and the other her heart, were too far to come to her aid.

Ivy felt her world crumble around her, the terror of it all finally subduing her. Darkness consumes her consciousness to sweet oblivion.

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><p>Biblo ears twitched nervously as he looked around him for the tenth time. The little hobbit felt tired and drained from his meeting with Thranduil and Bard. He was reasonably sure none of the dwarves had noticed his absence. Still he could not help but feel something was wrong. His hobbit intuition was uneasy and he was restless. Did he do the right thing to leave Ivy behind? Should he have taken her with him to meet King Thranduil and Bard of Lake Town?<p>

No, that would not have gone well. The dwarves would have notice them leaving. Especially since Dwalin was on sentry duty. It was difficult enough for Bilbo to leave with the Arkenstone, even with the invisible ring on.

Still, he could not help but shiver at the sudden fear and apprehension that filled him.

Smaug was finally dead. Bard had managed that which the dwarves could not. The giant wyrm lay smitten from his black arrow at the bottom of great lake. Many had suffered; Lake Town was in ruins, many were injured; the death toll was as of yet unknown.

It was just as well Bilbo had advised Bard to evacuate as many people as possible from Lake Town before the company reached Erabor. It was a blessing that at least that man's family were well.

Unfortunately not everyone had listened; the Master and Alfred were counted among those who were missing and likely dead. No body had been found yet; Bilbo suspected nothing would be found save ashes and ruin. Bard led the men now, the immediate danger had passed but soon they would require shelter and supplies.

Bilbo moved swiftly and silently as he approached the hidden pathway of Erabor. He slipped a couple of times; he was no dwarf when it came to night vision. His visibility was poor, but the ring heightened his senses, whitewashing the world in a monochrome grey and so he was able to make do. He had not needed to travel far, the camp which held the men and elves was nearby.

In the coming days, many healers would be needed. Ivy would be a real blessing to anyone in need of aid. Her side of the family were renowned for their skills in the arts of healing and herbology for as long as anyone could remember.

The Shire folk had a reputation to be secretive and shy, perfectly content to remain in the Shire, invisible to the eyes of the big folk. Ivy's family however had gained reputation as far as Blue Mountain to Rivendell despite this.

The elves had surmised that Yavanna herself blessed the family with their unique skills in healing. And among her gifted family, Ivy surpassed them all. Bilbo thought her time with the Rivendell Elves had only added to her talent, she had after all lived there for a decade.

With Oin amongst the rest of the company succumbing to the gold sickness, Ivy would have to stand as the only healer besides the elves Thranduil provided to aid the menfolk. He knew she would be incapable of sitting there and doing nothing, not when so many people were suffering.

Bilbo didn't know how she did it. Despite losing everything she held dear to her and the losses she suffered, Ivy Marigold Took's empathy had never once wavered towards those who required her aid. Bilbo felt so proud of his cousin's achievements and he had been overjoyed when she had confided in him and finally admitted her love towards the golden prince, Fili. It had been a difficult journey for all of them. But they had reached their goal in the end. Thorin Oakenshield was finally the King Under the Mountain.

But then everything had gone wrong. With the exception of Kili and Fili, all the dwarves had succumbed to the cursed gold sickness.

Bilbo panted, becoming short of breath as he increased his pace the closer he returned to the mountain. He hoped Ivy had remained unnoticed from the rest of the company. He had warned her to keep her distance, especially from the King.

The last few days had been very difficult for Bilbo, barely sleeping to keep an eye on Thorin.

For the last few days Bilbo had noticed Thorin had been watching his cousin, wherever she went his eyes followed. He had seen hunger in them and bitter envy whenever she was with Fili.

He nearly came to blows the last time he had a spoken with the King—that was surprising as Bilbo, as a hobbit had a mild nature. He had warned Thorin to keep his distance. He could not shake off the dread which mired him—growing as he drew nearer.

The threat of war after such devastation loomed like a black cloud above them. The company were running out of food, barricaded away from the men and elves. They needed an alliance rather than more conflict. And none of the dwarves were in their right state of mind to choose wisdom over greed. It was left to those who remained to take action.

The hidden entrance came into view. There were no torches burning from within. And no sign of Dwalin or any of the other dwarves assigned to watching the entrance.

Bilbo's fear redoubled, this form of extreme negligence was uncommon for the naturally mistrustful dwarves.

As a precaution, Bilbo slipped on the ring, entering the mountain on silent feet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** You know the drill, I do not own any of Middle Earth or the wonderful characters created by JRR Tolkien or Peter Jackson. Only Ivy is mine.. all mine...my precious! Ha! get it?

Well hello to all you lovely people! Just wanted to say a big fat thank you to all who reviewed, followed, viewed and favorite this fic. To be honest I wasn't sure what kind of respond I would get if any,so to have people noticing my story is amazing! To my guest reviewers, I can't personally reply to you but I just wanted to thank you over here, that I really appreciate your comments. Thank you Sky for your review, I have replied to you :)

Just to note, this fic is rated M, so there will be scenes of violence and graphic language.

Enjoy & Read On.

**Chapter 2**

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><p>The stagnant scent of old air filled Bilbo's nostrils, intertwined inexorably with the rich earthy scents of stone and metal as he entered the mountain. The flickering lights of distant, neglected wall-lined torches down the narrow passageway forced Bilbo to squint. He had removed his magic ring some time ago; he knew he was alone on an instinctive level…for now. The eerily silence was claustrophobic as Bilbo stepped carefully, his shoulders bunched with tension.<p>

A sudden jarring cackling made Bilbo's head whip up in alarm. It was harsh and malicious—no sound of men, elves, dwarves or smallfolk, one which he had heard oft before and hoped he would never have listen to again. He drew slow breaths, steadying himself and moved cautiously towards the sound. The sight that greeted him chilled his blood.

A goblin stood hunched in Erabor, towering over the motionless form of a dwarf. The low lighting painted the creature's face in ghastly relief, washing over its harsh contours to highlight its cruel glee.

Bilbo drew Sting from his belt slowly; the low rasp of his blade against its scabbard and the glow of blue light shimmering were not enough to rouse the monster's attention. He watching mute, as the goblin bent over the form. The slow beginnings of icy rage making his body tremble.

The goblin screeched greedily as it fingered gold coins and a small pile of gems which it had seemed to have gathered. The dwarf that lay so still was Ori—his silent form was covered in bruises. Bilbo could see the mittens which he usually wore so lovingly, on the floor in tatters. The goblin must have ripped it off to pilfer the rings that Ori had worn. His digits were a bleeding mess and there were deep gouges on his face and arms. He lay deadly still; his chest didn't seem to be moving.

Before he even knew what he was doing, Bilbo was moving. His beloved friend, so kind and sweet was dead. Ori was gentler than his kin, more inclined to sharing his scholarly passions with Bilbo.

Their mutual admiration to all things of lore and history had fuelled their kinship. They had spent many hours in deep discussion in their various adventures exchanging knowledge and ideas. Others in their company often scoffed and laughed at them in good humour. They had often told Bilbo that Ori was their walking, talking library. He was one of the first of the dwarves to befriend him, curiosity for knowledge about Hobbits, giving him the courage to approach Bilbo.

With a wild scream more akin to an enraged animal than the hobbit he was. Bilbo charged at the goblin from behind aiming to kill Ori's murderer in a swift lunge for vengeance. In the last millisecond the Goblin whirled around to face the source of the sound—sidestepping the fatal blow, but Biblo's wild fury and momentum was not to be denied. His blade bit deep at the tendons of the creatures left leg, hamstringing it.

It let out a high-pitched undulation of surprised pain and fury; slamming a powerful arm out in a backhand arc before it collapsed. It caught Bilbo full in the face—staggering him. Pain blinded the hobbit for a few precious moments, Sting slipping from his grasp and clattering to the floor.

Bilbo shook off his daze, he felt and tasted blood, his nose felt numb. The pain receded under the coursing adrenaline and rage.

Through his unbidden tears, he saw the blurred figure of the goblin scrabbling towards him. Bilbo probed around himself desperately, trying to find his glowing elven blade. The creature lunged for him with a wild howl, propelling itself with its undamaged leg.

His small fingers closed around the jagged edges of a heavy stone fragment, debris of a ruined statue. He hurled it with all his might, his aim true as he knew it would be. Its head whipped back as if by whiplash. It let out a screech, its intent to kill momentarily scrambled. Bilbo rolled out of the way as the creature fell towards him—it hit the ground with a thunk.

Bilbo took the opportunity to look for his blade, even unarmed; the murderous goblin would be lethal, far heavier than Bilbo and prone to using teeth.

He found it, the soft ethereal glow a blessing in the darkness.

He stalked towards the creature climbing atop it, and pressing his blade to the jugular, ceasing the ugly monster's struggles with the threat of death.

"You filth…he was my friend!" Bilbo panted hoarsely. His voice sounded strange and slurred, as if he were talking with his nose pressed flat.

The creature lay motionless beneath him, its teeth bared in a snarl of pain and anger, its left eye was a ruined mess.

Bilbo sounded the alarm, his small shrill voice echoing, in the deeps of the mountain.

"Tiny vermin…you're dead! And same to ya' stinking friends…" The goblin growled, its teeth bared in a mad grin. "Bolg is coming!"

Bolg, sired of Azog the Defiler. Their existing troubles were enough to last a lifetime yet still more loomed ahead in an endless tower. Had they not deserved even a moment's respite? Their whole journey was cursed with bad luck. Bilbo felt achingly tired.

"When? Tell m—!" The goblin lunged for him, its clawed fingers reaching for his neck. Bilbo pressed his blade forward, and Sting drank deep. The creature's digits fell away—lifeless.

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><p>Bilbo let out an exhausted sigh as Sting clattered to the floor; no more death. He crawled over to Ori. He made a small prayer to Yavanna, hoping against hope. He checked his pulse and let out a moan of relief.<p>

Ori was alive, barely, his pulse flitted so fitfully—so weak.

Ori had broken ribs and deep lacerations on his stomach. There wasn't one spot that wasn't bruised or bleeding. Congealing blood pooled slowly on the dirt-ridden stone floor, looking like black ink in the low light.

Bilbo searched his backpack for something to stem the bleeding. With trembling fingers he tore a spare shirt to rough strips and wove them around the worst of his friend's injuries, wincing each time he had to move him.

"Ori, please..." he whispered, tears fogging his eyes for the second time but for different reasons, threating to overcome him. He blinked them away angrily, now was not the time. There wasn't enough time.

Slowly the dwarf opened his eyes, his was gaze was unfocused and distant, laced with pain.

"…B-bilbo…is that you?" His voice was reedy and far away, so unlike him. "You…must l-leave, it's…not safe." Ori's voice breaks off in a gasp of pain, his breath laboured. "G-goblins…" he managed to whimper out through gritted teeth. His soft brown eyes filled with agony that doesn't seem attributed to his physical injuries.

Bilbo chokes back his own tears. He grabs hold of Ori's hand firmly.

"Don't speak my friend. Everything will be fine. We'll save you Ori, I promise. Don't worry about the goblin. It's dead. I killed it. You need to stay awake, so that I can get you help." He looks around him despairingly, shouting for Ivy, for Oin, for anyone.

"I am so s-sor…ry Bilbo. I f-f-failed. Didn't even…s-see, too busy c-counting my go…ld." He laughed shortly—bitterly, coughing up blood and grimacing in pain; shame and self-loathing in his eyes.

"C-cou…ld you please fo-forgive…" he gasps drawing a wheezing breath, blood trickling from his lips and into his beard. "Tell my brothers..." His eyes begin to grow distant as he begins to lose consciousness again. Bilbo shakes him lightly, fighting back the rising panic and bile in the back of his throat. Ori lets out a shuddering gasp and speaks in a rushed whisper. "Y-you'll tell them that I love them!"

Bilbo closes his eyes, his lower lip trembling, and his cheeks feeling warm. "Don't speak that way. Oin will be here in a moment, Ivy with him. They will fix you. And then you can tell them yourself."

He shouts for his companions again.

The young dwarf smiles and closes his eyes, tears mingling with the blood and dirt. His grasp on Bilbo's hand leaking strength. "W-wish…I could have seen them. One last…time…" His voice fades into nothingness as he loses consciousness.

* * *

><p>Balin searched for Thorin. He was pretty certain he had not seen his king for two days at least…or was it four days now? Balin hated to be confused. Usually his mind was clear and level headed. Balin wondered whether it was his age that was finally affecting his mind or the nightmares.<p>

His nightmares of the past, the day the fire drake had taken their home. Guilt was still eating at him; his failure for being unable save his parents from the inferno and their precious sister, Kalin. Balin's memory was blurred of all those lost to them that terrible day. All he could recall clearly was the screams and terror, his mind confusing the past from the present.

He could not help but feel like it was his fault. He should have been the one to rescue his brother and sister, making sure they both got out alive. Instead it was Kalin who had sacrificed her life to save their youngest sibling, Dwalin. In the end, all Balin could remember was her screams of terror and her desperate cries for help; her voice sounding suspiciously like their hobbit lass, Ivy.

Balin felt something inside had righted in his muddled mind, allowing him the ability to think rationally again.

Apprehension allowed him to focus in finding the royal family. But Erabor was huge, he would need help. He would have to use all his powers of persuasion to garner the help of his brother and Nori both who he had last seen in the treasury.

* * *

><p>Balin felt his irrational ire rising. This was the fourth time he had to intervene. He was getting too old for this, Nori and Dwalin were at each other's throats again. He had prevented them from drawing blades so far.<p>

When he found an orc desecrating a tapestry of Queen Keeana, Wife of King Thor, grandmother to Thorin and Dis; for a moment Balin could not distinguish his hallucinations from reality. An orc in Erabor? This could not have been possible. His brother had set the watch duty amongst the company and he was certain no-one save them knew of the hidden entrance into the mountain.

But it was when the orc started ransacking the chests of gold and jewellery of his family heirlooms that jarred Balin to react.

"Orc in Erabor! Attack! Attack! Dwalin, Nori, we've been invaded!" he thundered in Khadzul.

Dwalin and Nori appeared at his sides weapons bared, roaring ferociously as they all charged as one. Balin advanced, the others flanking the creature.

The orc realised too late, it was outnumbered. It squawked in alarm and tried to flee.

Dwalin and Nori, being younger and faster than Balin, easily stopped its retreat. Nori hurled one of his many lethal daggers, incapacitating the orc. His brother pressed the advantage as the beast collapsed, swinging his mighty great-axe Biter in savage, decisive sweep, beheading the orc.

But their enraged thirst for violence was not sated; Balin watched in growing disgust as his brother desecrated the beast piece-by-piece, painting himself in black orc blood.

Nori chortled in insane excitement, doing no better for himself.

"What are you doing!? Stop it you fools!" Balin shouted in revulsion. "You call yourself dwarves? You act no better than one of them!" He pointed to the butchered remains of the orc. "Instead of this mindless slaughter we should have taken the prisoner to question. We could have had answers! His death was meaningless. We are dwarrows, we fight with honour! We do not demonize the dead…"

He took a deep breath, shaking his head a grimacing, trying to get the foul scent of orc blood away from himself. Dwalin cursed and spat at the remains of the orc; as Nori had the grace to look away cringing in revulsion. He went to retrieve his daggers.

"Dwalin who did you put on guard duty?" Balin asked, trying to steady his companions with reason.

"Ori—I put the librarian on guard duty after my watch ended." snarled Dwalin, his anger rising again, he pointed his bloodied axe at Nori.

"Your weakling brother let the company down, couldn't even guard the damn door! Who knows how many he let in while he fiddled with that stupid book of his! He will bring death to us all with his useless diversions."

"Shut it! I don't care what grief you've got with me, say shit about me, I'll take it! Heck half the time I probably deserve it. But I ain't gonna' stand around and hear one word against my brother. He knows his duty! He would never betray the company." Nori growled back in reply. His eyes locked with Dwalin, their faces deadly close. Spittle frothed at the corners of his mouth.

"He has more honour and loyalty towards the king than _you_, you bastard! And talking of failing duty, didn't his Highness choose you as his chief of security. A fine job you did, scratching your balls as orcs run amok in the Mountain! What happened to the first rule of guard duty? Never guard alone! Why did you let Ori take the watch by himself, eh? You better watch your back Dwalin, if something has happened to my brother…"

"You dare question my loyalty and honour, _thief_?" Dwalin whispered back, his tone deadly. His eyes narrowed almost to slits. They had reached a huge cavern, their voices echoing.

Balin feared that this was the last straw and there would be blood. He opened his mouth, willing himself to think of _something_ to diffuse this situation, but his answer came in the shrill echo of the panicked call of Bilbo Baggins.

_"Goblins! We're under attack! Help, we need aid!"_

Without another word, the three dwarves ran towards the source of the call. Towards Ori.

**Sorry you didn't get to see Ivy this chapter. Poor Ori, I do love his character. Hopefully in the next chapter we will find what has happend with Ivy and be introduced to the rest of the company, and see some of the dwarves pov, any suggestions as to who? And by the way how did the orcs find the hidden door? Until next time, please leave me your thoughts!**


	3. Chapter 3

**The Hobbit Lass: The Journey of Ivy Marigold Took**

**Disclaimer:** You know the drill, I do not own any of Middle Earth or the wonderful characters created by JRR Tolkien or Peter Jackson. Only Ivy is mine.

Apologies for the delay in posting, thanks once again for reading this fic to all the viewers, reviewers,favs and followers. It's a real encouragement for me when I get feedback, as this helps me as a writer to improve hopefully. Please continue supporting me by reading this fic . Thanks.

I did struggle with this chapter, please forgive any mistakes. More Angst in this chapter. Things will get better...eventually... promise. I am not entirely satisfied with this chapter, so most likely will be editing this chapter. So comeback and check again. :)

**Chapter 3**

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><p><em>Where once was light<em>

_Now darkness falls_  
><em>Where once was love<em>  
><em>Love is no more<em>

_Don't say - goodbye_  
><em>Don't say - I didn't try...<em>

_These tears we cry_  
><em>Are falling rain<em>  
><em>For all the lies<em>  
><em>You told us<em>  
><em>The hurt, the blame!<em>

_And we will weep_  
><em>To be so alone<em>  
><em>We are lost!<em>  
><em>We can never go home<em>

_So in the end_  
><em>I will be - what I will be<em>  
><em>No loyal friend<em>  
><em>Was ever there for me<em>

_Now we say - goodbye_  
><em>We say - you didn't try...<em>

_These tears you cry_  
><em>Have come too late<em>  
><em>Take back the lies<em>  
><em>The hurt, the blame!<em>

_And you will weep_  
><em>When you face the end alone<em>  
><em>You are lost!<em>  
><em>You can never go home <strong>~ Gollam Song. (The Two Towers)<strong>_

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><p><span><strong>Ivy<strong>

**Cold.** So cold. Somewhere there was a terrible screaming, a rasping cry of a lost soul in pain that seemed to draw the very foundation of the stone, the weeping echoing deeply in waves. In her fragile broken mind she wondered what manner of creature could be making such a sound. In a moment, her heart shattered like fragments of glass, caught in a violent hurricane of emotions; something precious inside her had been ripped away from her, piece-by-small-piece.

Her identity, her very core. She realised with numbness, it was her. She was the one making the sounds. Ivy whimpered in pain, shivering against the cold metal of brilliant gold and precious gems. She had to be quiet; she must not make any sound. He would return. He would come back for her. She managed to curl in a foetal position, making herself as small as possible, willing herself to be invisible.

Dirt and icy metal coins snarled her beautiful red copper curly hair, precious tears like morning dew slid slowly from her emerald eyes. Her well-traveled clothes, her last connection to her sister was ruined, torn and ripped to rags. Like her. She was a body that was an empty husk. She was not worthy to anyone anymore.

Ivy with her small hands covered her mouth, she was hurting all over. So great was her anguish that her body was mourning its pain without her consent and she gave herself over to her pain with wrecking sobs.

Smaug had been right. The great monstrosity had jeered in malice at her cousin Bilbo when he said that even if they manage to slay him, his demise would not bring victory, the curse of the gold would linger like a great spider's web of Mirkwood, sullying all who would get caught in its web.

**Her** tormented mind could not understand. He once told her he loved her, and she had believed him, there was a time her confused mind felt she had return his feelings. That was before he told her he could never accept her as his One because she was a hobbit. And the dwarven society would never allow such union to establish between their king and a creature of another race. The bloodline had to be kept pure, for future heirs. That had hurt. But she had accepted his decision, as she never considered herself unworthy to begin with.

They had agreed to keep their distance and remain friends. She had come to value his friendship dearly and with time she found her true love with Fili. She had come to realised what she shared with Thorin was an infatuation of the inexperience and to whom she shared a common link of loss and sacrifice.

He had awed and intimidated her with his very presence. Ivy had been half-frightened of his intensity in everything he did; it had made her feel excited and unworthy for his attentions. A natural leader whose folk followed willingly, who had lost so much, sacrificed his every happiness, even love for the sake of his people and a brighter future for their entire race.

She had come to admire and respect him, came to see him as the King he was, worthy of following and giving her allegiance to him. Most of all she had trusted him.

Ivy, felt dirty. She realised she had been wrong, she never knew a dwarf by the name of Thorin Oakenshield at all. She had lost herself to a monstrosity in guise of a 'cherished' friend.

* * *

><p><strong>The<strong> dwarves had found Bilbo, he had his small hands pressed against Ori's unmoving form.

"Ori! Nooo...my brother! I'm here!" came the anguished cry from Nori as he fell to his knees, drawing his scribe brother into his arms, rocking slowly back and forth.

"Nori! Dwalin...Balin, thank goodness you're here. I-I..did what I could for Ori. He was already so injured w-when I found him." Babbled Biblo, tears in his voice. He moved away from Ori and turned to face the two standing dwarves, wavering and swaying in exhaustion, the fatigue overwhelming him as he tried to stay standing. Finally, he failed, sinking to his knees, his head bowed-tears spilling down his dirt-streaked, gore-splattered face. The sight of his friends brought him some comfort after feeling so terrified and alone. Bilbo gritted his teeth as resolution filled him for Ori's sake. He needed to get help, they needed Ivy...Ivy! Did the goblins get to her? How many had entered Erabor?

"Ivy!" Bilbo exclaimed, as dread filled his core. "We must find Ivy!"

"Easy there lad..." Balin, murmured as he crouched down by Bilbo, his face clouded with concern for the hobbit. "Bilbo, I think your nose is broken..."

Dwalin towered over his friends, his great giant axe standing ready. He quickly surveyed his surroundings. He felt stunned in disbelief, anger and bitter sense of disappointment at himself. How did all this happen under his watch, his very nose? He was a veteran warrior and experienced in his role as captain to Thorin's guards in the Blue Mountains. Nori was right. How did he allow only one dwarf to stand guarding their only exit and entrance to the Mountain? The severity of their circumstances hit Dwalin like a sword sinking deep in the gut. This folly was his responsibility. He had failed the task of overseeing to the protection of their mountain, and to the safety of the company members.

He watched his blood-soaked hands biting into his skin, yet he felt nothing. He clenched his teeth and slammed his fist against the walls.

"Bilbo! How many of these filthy things got into the mountain?" demanded Dwalin.

"I..I..I don't know...only Ori could answer that question. I-I wasn't there at the beginning, ju...st at the end. I saw the goblin standing over him and I suppose I lost it. I thought he was d-dead, his chest wasn't moving. He was so still. The n-next thing I knew, everything went red. I just wanted to h-hurt it, for hurting Ori." Bilbo whispered.

Dwalin had slight difficulty understanding the hobbit through his broken nose, his words slightly distorted.

"How is Ori? We found an orc desecrating one of the paintings and filling its pockets with the gold. It was butchered before we could think to question it." Balin asked calmly, hiding his own worries from the hobbit.

"He was barely conscious." replied Bilbo, thinking back "He did manage to leave a few words with me before he lost consciousness. He warned me of the goblins and…" Bilbo hesitated, voice faltering "He s-said he was distracted, and didn't see the oncoming attack." Bilbo glanced up at Dwalin; he saw several emotions flicker through his expression before it grew impassive.

"Ori..." whispered Nori, his forehead touching his brothers. "You did what you could, I'm sure of it, you warned Bilbo. Nadad, wake up for me. What will I say to Dori? How can I face him? I-I have failed you brother mine. It's my fault. I s-should've been there to protect you."

Pain filled Nori, he turned to Balin urgency bordering to panic in his voice. "Balin, we need to get help for him, he is barely breathing. We need it fast. His injuries are bad, we can't move him. Where is Oin? We need Ivy."

Balin felt the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders. He felt undecided for a moment. On the one hand Ori required medical attention urgently as did Bilbo; they had to find the healers in their company. On the other he felt fearful for the safety of the Durins. Their location as of yet was unknown which was deeply troubling. All this time he had feared for Thorin succumbing to the gold sickness, but their joint failure in their actions and behaviours towards each other made Balin come to realise with horrifying clarity, they had all succumbed to the sickness and not even realised it. Their neglectful behaviour towards their own kin was a clear evidence of that fact.

There was also the matter of the safety of the Mountain. Somehow the orcs had found their hidden entrance. So far two of the beasts had been found, but how many more enemies managed to enter Erabor, until Ori regained conscious, they were left in the dark. There was also the matter of how many escaped.

"Bilbo, before this creature died, did you manage to get any information out of it?" Balin asked urgently.

"I did. He mentioned Bolg. He said Bolg was coming." Bilbo replied, dread clouding his face.

Dwalin swore.

"I thought he was dead! If he is commanding the orcs than we have war on our hands, looks like the goblins want their revenge too." Dwalin growled. "If any of the orc scouts got away, we are in deep trouble. We need to summon Dain and request his aid as soon as possible. We need to find Thorin. He must be informed. He is the only one of us who can speak Raven tongue."

Bilbo cleared his throat.

"As to that, the boys are already on their way. The Princes, they tried to get counsel from their elders…but" Bilbo's faltered a moment. "Everyone was too occupied in the treasury room, in search of…" Bilbo's broke off as guilt and fear drew him to silence.

Bilbo prays to Yavanna for courage as he continues. "The Princes were not influenced by the gold sickness, and well…Ivy and I, we were immune to its call. We had to make decisions, hard ones. Our supplies were running low and Thorin refused to aid the Men of Lake Town...threatened Thranduil with his life. We lost all chance to come to a peaceful solution. Fili decided there was no alternative but to turn to Dain for aid."

There was a profound silence as the three conscious dwarves took a moment to come to terms with this drastic change of events. How had they come to this, so oblivious to everything but the mad call to the cursed gold?

"We should have waited for the wizard. He had warned us not to enter the mountain without him. He had implied there was a method in which to remove the curse left by Smaug, but we did not listen. We did not listen to his warnings." whispered Balin to himself.

Now was not the time to think deeply at the implications of their actions, there was too many things to do and plan. There were not enough of them. And not enough time.

"We cannot do anything about the Princes until they return, may their journey to the Iron Hills be safe and their mission with Dain bode well. We cannot linger. For now, Bilbo will go and find our hobbit lass and bring her here to aid Ori, as it seems Oin may not be able to help us, depending how deep he has fallen to the damn curse. I will try my best to reason with the others and seek their aid to find Thorin."

Balin studies his brother, relieved to find Dwalin's eyes clear and grim with determination. Thank Mahal for small blessings, the cursed treasure would not take his brother today.

"Brother, we cannot afford to leave the entrance unguarded, Ori is vulnerable, Nori will be there to protect his brother but if we are invaded we would need you here to protect the mountain."

"Aye, but what of Thorin? If the others are not cured of the sickness, how will you find the King? Erabor runs deep, he could be anywhere." Dwalin was not happy. He wanted to go in search for his King himself, he had already failed in his duty to protect Ori, the Princes and the Mountain. He did not want to fail his King in protection.

"Do not worry brother, I will find him, I am sure Dori at least would be here with you in no time to tend to his brothers. Once he arrives with the others you may join me in finding Thorin." Balin suggested.

He turned to Bilbo placing his old hands onto the hobbit's shoulders. "I must apologise Master Bilbo, to turn to you for aid once more when you were injured saving one of our own. It seems we owe you a heavy debt for all you and your cousin has done for us. I know you wish to know whether Ivy is safe, come, let us make sure of it."

With that he turned to nod at Nori and to his brother, as he led the hobbit away.

* * *

><p><strong>Bilbo<strong> had found her at the last place he expected her to be. He walked into the throne room thinking he may find the king after his futile search had come to naught for Ivy.

Ivy's once meticulously cared for clothes were now torn and ragged, she was curled in a ball. She shivered violently and he could hear her broken sobbing. She seemed unaware of her surroundings. Her cousin approached her quickly, his vision tunneling to only Ivy.

Ivy did not hear the footsteps of her cousin approach her until he was standing by her small form.

"Ivy, what happened? How... who did this to you!?" Bilbo choked out, trying to keep his voice calm. He gently touched her shoulder.

She stiffened and pulled away, gripping her arms tight around herself, keeping her head low. Even in the low light, Bilbo could see ugly bruising on her exposed, delicate skin.

"No leave me alone! Don't touch me, I'm dirty!" She managed through her tears, looking right through him, her eyes blank or recognition.

"Ivy I can't leave you like this. I am here for you." said Bilbo, as he cautiously sat on the ground a short distant away feeling numb with shock and devastation.

"It's too late. No-one can help me. P-please, just...go away" came her fading whisper.


End file.
